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This Is A Real Bummer…

Before you proceed with this post, I want you to understand that I am now feeling much better than when I wrote it. And I’ve figured out how to move forward with Story Math. I’m still frustrated about what to do with the garden, but it’s not depressing me. I’m not hating or regretting.

HOWEVER, the sad fact remains. And I’m still tired. So I decided to go ahead and publish this post, just FYI.

On with the original post….

The problem I have with blogging is that half the time I make grandiose claims that I eventually change my mind about.

And then I feel stupid and embarrassed that I publicly said what I did, but I can’t go back and take the words out of the minds of the people who have already read the wrong things I wrote.

Turns out that God didn’t deliver me from perfectionism after all. Not in a supernatural, never-have-to-do-anything-about-it-again way. I knew I should have waited six months to be sure before publishing that post, but NO-O-O. I have zero patience.

Here’s the truth: no matter what kind of diet I eat, no matter how well I make sure my body is getting all the nutrition I need, my body is incapable of keeping the proper brain chemistry balance I need to not be depressed. I guess my brain just has never been able to produce enough seratonin on its own.

I did not receive a supernatural deliverance. I had been religiously using an essential oil blend that keeps my hormones, and ergo my brain chemistry, in balance. Apparently, brain chemistry imbalance can lead to perfectionism in certain individuals (like me).

When I started feeling consistently happy – for two months, I barely experienced any emotional P.M.S. symptoms (which is HUGE for me) – I quit using that blend. Just to see. For a couple of weeks, the happiness and peace lasted.

But then a couple of weeks ago, depression and anger started seeping back into my soul. Now, as I write this post, for the past three or four days I have been right back to where I was before I started using the oils twice a day:

  • I hate living here. I want to move.
  • I hate all the work gardening entails. I want to quit.
  • I hate being a mother.
  • I wish we’d never had this mold-sensitive house built. (It’s in the 60’s outside and 77 in here but we can’t open the windows to cool it down because we don’t dare get the humidity too high because mold loves concrete and because it’s an earth-sheltered house it likes to hold on tight to whatever its current indoor temperature is.)
  • I’m tired all the time. And I mean ALL. THE. TIME.
  • I’m pissed at God for not fixing what’s wrong with my physical body, even though I’ve asked a hundred times.
  • My husband is lazy.
  • I can’t figure out how to proceed with Story Math (or whatever creative endeavor I have recently gotten excited about).
  • In short, I feel like a big, skinny failure.

As of today, I am back to using the oils again, twice a day. I will never be happy that I cannot figure out how to naturally fix my brain so that it will function normally without the use of a crutch. But better the crutch than the miserable, dark, deep hole I have fallen into yet again.

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